


I'll Catch You

by Melusine6619



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine6619/pseuds/Melusine6619
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulling over his loneliness one night, Viggo receives an unexpected visitor and an admission he’s not quite sure he’s ready to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Catch You

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Getty and Ireth.

Viggo Mortensen was a lonely man.

Sure, he had his family, his friends, adoring fans, but he was as alone as a man could be. At times like this, when the rain gathered, it hit him most. He didn’t like being lonely, no one did, but it just always ended that way for him. 

Lonely. A short word for such a big, empty feeling. He’d tried to fill the void with painting, poetry, and music. Nothing helped of course. When you were that empty inside there was only one thing that could fill the dark places–love. But that, more than anything else, was out of Viggo’s reach. 

There were too many failed relationships in his past for him to want to jump into a new one. Oh, he’d dated every now and then since his divorce, but they’d never lasted. Each time the endings had been his doing more often than the other party’s. It always seemed there was something missing in those he dated, but now he was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t him.

Too many cuts and bruises to his heart and his soul had left him wary of the cure.

What he wanted, needed, he was too afraid to reach out for. So he said nothing. Did nothing. Kept it all inside. Festering. For ten years, it had been festering. 

He moved from the window and sat on the thickly upholstered sofa and raked his hands through his hair. Reaching into the end table drawer he withdrew a photograph and stared at it before brushing a thumb over one of the faces in a tender caress. Ten years, and Viggo still couldn’t get over him. Get over wanting him. Get over his own fears and sense of futility where love was concerned and try one more time. 

Orlando Bloom was everything Viggo was not: young, vital, full of light. Being near him tugged at Viggo’s soul, made him want things he shouldn’t want. Feel things he shouldn’t feel. Made him afraid of falling and hitting the ground.

Viggo had hit the ground more times than he cared to remember.

He sighed, set the photograph on the table top and rose to replenish the wood in his fireplace and the whiskey in his tumbler. Thoughts of a fresh canvas crossed his mind, but the sudden knock on his door startled him out of that idea. He moved to the door and opened it, his surprise mounting as he took in the sight of the one who stood dripping wet and shivering on the threshold. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Viggo replied automatically, followed by, “Come in.”

“Thanks,” Orlando said. “It’s getting a bit chilly out here.” 

Viggo tried to ignore the wild hammering of his heart at the realization that Orlando was here, in his home. It was a scene he had pictured far too often, but Viggo reined in his emotions with practiced ease. “What are you doing here?” 

Orlando shrugged out of his jacket and ran a hand over his curls, sending water to the floor. Viggo took the garment and shook the water out of it onto the porch before hanging it on a peg by the door.

“Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?” Orlando asked, a soft smile curving his lips.

Viggo’s eyebrows shot up, a patent indication that he didn’t really, but he let it pass for now. “You look soaked through. If you want to get into something dry, the bathroom’s through here,” Viggo offered, nodding his head toward the hallway. “I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear.”

“Thanks, that’d be great. It started pouring halfway here, and wouldn’t you know it, I got a flat.”

Twenty minutes later Orlando had showered and was now dressed in a pair of Viggo’s sweat pants and one of his T-shirts. At any other time the realization that he had finally gotten into Viggo’s pants would have struck him as funny. But not now. As he stood staring into the fireplace, chewing on his bottom lip, he thought of why he’d traveled to Idaho in the first place–to tell Viggo a few things, namely how he felt about him. That he’d felt this way for most of the duration of their friendship. Ten years was an awfully long time to keep something like that hidden, and the burden of deceit was crushing to someone who tried his best to be open whenever possible. 

Viggo was everything he’d ever wanted: he was smart, funny, fearless. It was only when it came to relationships that he was afraid. At least that’s what Bean had told him the last time they’d met up for drinks. Viggo had been interested, all right, just afraid of whatever feelings he might have had back then. The knowledge had helped Orlando hang onto the last thread of hope he’d harbored these past years. He hadn’t been mistaken in what he’d thought he’d seen in Viggo’s warm blue gaze all those years ago. Orlando’s eyes narrowed. Of course Bean could have been taking the piss; he loved ribbing the younger man no end. 

Either way, Orlando was tired of waiting, tired of pretending he felt only friendship for Viggo. Tired of not being able to tell the one he wanted, “I love you,” even if he didn’t hear it back. Tired of dating others only to be disappointed. How could he not be when they weren’t Viggo? 

He turned as Viggo moved next to him and pressed a glass into his hand. 

“It’ll help warm you.”

Orlando murmured his thanks and raised the tumbler to his lips. The whiskey burned its way down his throat as he swallowed the contents. When Viggo offered more, Orlando didn’t decline. He was a little better at holding his drink, but not much. Well, if this didn’t work out, if Viggo laughed in his face, he could always blame the alcohol.

The two of them settled on the couch, close, but not close enough for either man. Silence settled about them, but not the comfortable ones they once shared. Viggo stared at his feet while Orlando swallowed back another mouthful of whiskey.

Orlando glanced around, taking in all the little details of the living room. It was exactly how he’d pictured his friend’s home. He berated himself now for never visiting before, though he had been invited. It was a place Orlando could be comfortable in. A place he could call home. His eyes swept back from their exploration and came to rest on the photograph on top of the end table. He reached for it before Viggo’s protest could stop him and looked at it for several long moments. It was one of himself and Viggo, goofing off together during a break in filming. He supposed Viggo must have been reminiscing when he’d shown up, but there were no other pictures about of any of the other cast or crew. But what did it mean? Had Bean been telling the truth after all? 

After another long look at the photograph he handed it to Viggo, who put it away. The older man returned to his place on the sofa and asked, “So what really brings you all the way out here?”

“New Year’s resolution,” Orlando replied, not looking at him as he gathered his courage.

“A little early for that isn’t it?”

“Or a little late, depending how you look at it.”

Viggo’s heart began to hammer again as Orlando finally turned to face him. The look in the younger man’s eyes was not unfamiliar, but it was more intense than he’d ever seen. His hands began to shake as Orlando slid along the sofa toward him. He tried to forestall him. “Orlando–.”

“I’m in love with you, Viggo.”

There. The words were out. Orlando refused to look away, though he wanted to very much. He waited for Viggo to say something. Anything.

Viggo rose and went to stand before the window. Orlando loved him. It was everything he’d wanted to hear, and yet the admission was terrifying to him. What was he to say? What was he to do?

Could he make that leap? Did he want to?

“Viggo?”

Orlando had come up behind him, close, but not touching. He didn’t have to touch him for Viggo’s trembling to increase ten-fold. He glanced at the younger man before turning his attention back to the rain.

“I’m old enough–.”

“To be my father, I know,” Orlando finished for him. “I don’t care. And anyway, who decided love should be dictated by which decade you’re born in?”

“It’s not that simple.”

It wasn’t an outright rebuff, and a second strand of hope twined with the one Orlando had been nurturing. “Why? Why can’t it be simple?”

“You’re you, and I’m me. We both have careers . . .” Viggo trailed off and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“So you’re saying if I weren’t me and you weren’t you I’d have a chance with you?”

“No. It wouldn’t work, either way.”

“Why wouldn’t what work, Vig? All that’s happened is me saying that I love you and you trying to figure out some way to head me off.” He moved even closer and placed a hand on Viggo’s shoulder. “Or do you feel something for me too?”

“Friendship.” Viggo’s voice shook with the half-truth.

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Vig, look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have some feelings for me, even if it’s just lust.”

Viggo turned toward him reluctantly. He was a good actor, he knew that, but he wasn’t that good. “Just a friend. I see you as just a friend.”

The words were curt, clipped. Hollow. They both knew it. Orlando could see the need in Viggo’s eyes, the desperate want. With a harsh curse he leaned forward, grabbing the front of Viggo’s shirt, and captured Viggo’s lips with his own. A startled gasp kept him from immediately deepening the kiss, though this was something he’d been dying to do for years. Instead he teased and coaxed, gliding his mouth back and forth, and only when he felt Viggo relax, only when he felt Viggo begin to respond, did he gradually increase the pressure of his lips. Viggo’s deep moan was his reward.

He darted his tongue against Viggo’s lips, and when the older man’s parted for him, Orlando was lost. Every fantasy paled next to actually kissing Viggo. The taste of him was incredible, the feel of lips and tongue moving with his own intoxicating. He shuddered with longing and unleashed all his love and desire into the kiss, knowing it might be the last, hoping it would only be the first of many. He drew back reluctantly.

“Tell me that you’re not interested. That you feel nothing for me but friendship. Tell me, Vig, and I swear I’ll never mention it again.”

Viggo struggled for control, to step back from the edge and find cover, but he was trapped there, teetering on the brink. “I . . . can’t.”

“Why not?”

Viggo drew a deep, shuddering breath and pulled further away, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. 

“Are you afraid?” Orlando asked gently, letting Viggo have his space for now. He knew when to push and when to back off. He also knew that his happiness, and more importantly, Viggo’s would be decided tonight. Orlando watched Viggo carefully. “I’m scared, too. I’m scared of what I feel for you, and how much. I’m terrified that you really don’t feel anything for me, and if you do, that you won’t at least let go enough to try.”

“You don’t understand, Orlando. I’ve been hurt . . . I’m old and broken–.”

“We all have scars on our hearts, Viggo. It’s part of life, you know that.”

Viggo looked from Orlando’s earnest face to the hand he had extended toward him. It wasn’t intrusive, wasn’t meant to be intrusive, and he knew that. It was an offering. A dare. “Jump,” it said, while Orlando watched him, his dark brown eyes promising rescue. It all seemed so easy. Too easy. How many times had he dared and fallen? 

“You’re right. I am afraid,” he admitted.

“I know,” Orlando answered. The urge to walk forward and take Viggo into his arms was near overwhelming, but he fought it down. “The hardest part of skydiving and bungee jumping is believing, knowing that you’re going to be caught before you hit the ground. I know how scary it is. But I’m here, waiting for you. I’ll catch you, Vig. If you take the leap, if you let yourself fall, I’ll catch you.”

He had done what he’d set out to do, had said what needed to be said. The rest was up to Viggo.

Viggo looked again from Orlando’s eyes to his outstretched hand. Though he wasn’t asking, he realized that Orlando needed his own rescue in turn. And maybe, just maybe, he could let go of his fears. He stepped forward, caught Orlando’s hand in his, and pulled the younger man into his arms.

“I’m in love with you, too, Orlando. Always have been,” Viggo whispered against his ear. “And I’ll jump with you. I’m scared as hell, but I’m jumping.”

Orlando’s arms went round Viggo and he held him tightly. “That’s all I’m asking, Vig. And it’s enough. More than enough.”

The Beginning


End file.
